


At River’s Edge

by unicornsandbutane



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Finger Sucking, Kisses on the Hand, M/M, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 15:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsandbutane/pseuds/unicornsandbutane
Summary: A non-canonical side story in the From Raw Materials universe, taking place after Chapter 12/13.The cardinal and the painter take a moment to dine al fresco by the banks of the Tiber. Today we’d call this a picnic.Requested by Rudbeckia on Twitter <3





	At River’s Edge

Sunset on the Tiber, with the breeze behind them, was quieter and more still than any moment had right to be in the heart of the Eternal City. Across the river, St. Peter’s tolled vespers, and birds startled from their belfry set off across the orange and blue sky. The cows were gone from the meadow, workmen had begun their walk home to their evening meal, and so, the Campo Marzio was empty. Uccello and Reni sat, perched among crumbling stones, and watched the gloaming gather into night.

Between them, on a piece of flat-hewn marble, was a square of cloth, which had been used to carry a light repast; a section of cheese, half a loaf of bread, some cured meats wrapped in a waxed linen, dried and sugared fruits. In a corked jar, some fruit spread with ground almonds. In Reni’s hand, a breadknife. He sawed a thick cut of bread from the loaf, and loaded it up with everything else on offer, hungry. 

Uccello watched him, chewing a dried fig. 

“Do you know Annibale Carracci?” Reni asked, suddenly breaking the spell of silence that the glowing twilight had cast. 

“Not personally,” Uccello replied, “but Cardinal Farnese talks about him constantly, and at length. I suppose he’s commissioned that artist for several large frescoes in his palazzo. Of course, I’ve never seen them, so I know nothing of their quality.” Uccello waited for Reni to be done with the knife, then cut a bit of bread and cheese for himself. He wondered if perhaps Reni would grow tired of dining this way, as these were the foods Uccello tended to favor for their ease of preparation. Maybe he’d ask Montreux for a special supper one of these days, and extend to Reni an invitation. 

“It’s not far from here, the Palazzo Farnese,” Reni commented, gesturing to his left. “Just a short walk past the Piazza Navona. Immense building. Hard to miss.” 

“That may be, but I’ve never been invited,” Uccello returned. “What made you ask, anyway?” 

Reni had taken a massive bite of his meal just as Uccello asked, and remained quiet a moment, chewing thoughtfully. 

“I heard that he plans to be buried in the Pantheon,” Reni finally said, casting his eyes toward the dome of the ancient temple, visible a short distance away. “Seeing it standing there reminded me. People like to compare us, you know.”

“Compare your work, you mean?” Uccello presumed Carracci to be an older man, based upon his stature among the Princes of the Church. Uccello might even have seen a painting or two, in one church or another, but he wouldn’t know it if he had. He knew only the name. 

“Mm, that,” Reni mused, “And, they like to contrast our temperaments.” He favored Uccello with a grim smile. “He’s been working among the elites for twenty years. Presumably, he gets on with them. Apparently, some people find me, on the other hand, difficult to work with.” 

Uccello grinned back, unable to help himself. 

“I never would have thought,” he shot back, drily. 

“I’m not difficult,” Reni declared. “I’m /honest/. It’s other people who have the difficulty.” He punctuated this statement with another large bite of his towering supper.

Uccello nibbled his cheese. He didn’t think that every part of Reni’s personality people might disparage was necessarily honesty-based, but he didn’t want to say so. Reni... had a particular way about him, but Uccello still felt warm, looking at him, even in the slight chill of the evening. The dying light caught on Reni’s strong features, gilded them, made him luminescent and otherworldly. The blue shadows in the hollow of his throat, the curve of his cheek traced in blazing fire, made Uccello’s heart ache. Even just the curl of Reni’s fingers around the neck of a bottle drew Uccello’s eyes, made him swallow thickly. He didn’t quite understand, couldn’t explain why the smallest gestures pulled at his chest, gave him a feeling like longing for something far away, when Reni was right there, close enough to touch. 

Reni caught him looking, tilted his his head at him. Uccello didn’t know how to answer the gesture, but at long last, he reached over the cloth where they’d laid their food, and touched Reni’s free hand. To his dismay, the longing feeling only intensified. How was he meant to mitigate this nonsensical yearning? 

“You look distressed,” Reni observed. “You were the one who invited me to dine with you /al fresco/, but you’ve hardly touched your food.” 

Uccello noticed Reni hadn’t moved his hand out from Uccello’s own. 

“I suppose I’ve been distracted,” Uccello admitted, “although I can’t explain it.” 

“You don’t have to,” Reni replied. He moved his hand to lace their fingers together, and turned his attention back to the view across the river. “What sort of art does this new pope like, do you know?”

Fascinated by the warmth of Reni’s hand in his, Uccello didn’t answer for a too-long moment. 

“Er,” he said after an embarrassing pause, “I don’t know, really. I know he was excited to see another cardinal’s sculpture garden when he arrived in Rome, before the conclave. But honestly,” Uccello shrugged a bit, “I think he’s a hedonist. He’s cheerful, jovial even, but I don’t think he has any particular taste except whatever gives him pleasure moment to moment.”

Reni clicked his tongue. “Is there something wrong with pleasure?” he asked, squeezing Uccello’s hand. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Uccello protested. He still didn’t pull his hand away. 

“You think he has trouble with temperance?” Reni conceded, withholding his teasing for the moment. Uccello let his shoulders relax, watched birds skimming insects off the surface of the river. 

“I’m not sure how to put it. In short, I’ve never seen him be serious about anything, even his own coronation.” Sighing, Uccello felt his brows pinch, knew he was developing a line there, a wrinkle that would only grow deeper with time. 

“Ah, well. That’s not the worst thing in the world,” Reni replied easily. “Better than a raging tyrant.” 

Uccello suddenly imagined Reni wearing the heavy papal tiara and swathed in the long pallium that would mark him bishop of Rome. 

“Do you recall, one of the first acts of our last pope was to once again declare that all prostitutes must be confined to the Ortaccio?” Uccello asked. “Fabiano Secundus has yet to make any such grand proclamations.” 

“If you were pope, what would you do?” 

Reni still wasn’t looking at him, but Uccello considered his profile. It would be dark soon, and they’d have to pack up their supper and find other entertainment for the evening. 

“Well, I probably wouldn’t try to regulate the prostitutes, to start with,” Uccello stated. “I know it’s pointless, and a waste of money paying guards and watchmen to flush them out like dogs after fowl in the rushes. I’d rather spend that money on the aqueduct, or the sewer. Or, put it in the coffers of the Annona, to stockpile in case of drought or famine.” He waved a fly away from their cheese. “Whores will always find a way around whatever restriction you try to put on them. And people at every level of society will always find ways to find those plying a whore’s trade. So why waste money denying the inevitable?” 

Reni made a considering noise. “You know in Florence they used to make prostitutes wear bells in their hair, and high-heeled slippers, to differentiate them from noble women. People were very concerned that whores were able to afford the same fine dresses as merchants’ wives, and one could be mistaken for the other.” His thumb stroked absently over Uccello’s knuckles. “Pietra told me about it.”

“I’ve seen much hand-wringing over that.” Uccello agreed. “Or that the virtuous daughters of common houses will be tempted into prostitution if they see what silks and jewels that vocation affords. Or that allowing prostitutes to parade about invites strife into the lives of married couples, but if the city forces the prostitutes beyond its walls, their customers will be set upon by highwaymen and the city will grow impoverished. It’s a popular topic among the cardinalate.” 

“Hm,” Reni murmured. “One wonders how you get anything done.”

Uccello slid his thumb down the meat of Reni’s hand to brush softly against his inner wrist, and Reni jolted as if ticklish, but still kept their fingers laced. 

“Some of us actually do /try/ to do our jobs,” Uccello drawled. “Though we seem to be fairly few and far between. My only solace in that is that one day, the old guard will die, and the young among us will then be able to appoint the next generation of cardinals. Perhaps we shall do better than those who went before us, rather than just selecting our halfwit nephews and far-removed relations of distant kings.” Uccello gripped their bottle of wine with his free hand, took a swig. “It’s a nice thought, anyway.”

For a moment Reni was quiet. Then, he turned and fixed Uccello with one of those focused looks of his. 

“You’re putting a lot of time and money into keeping a job it sounds like you might actually hate,” he said. 

“I don’t hate it,” Uccello snapped, immediately. Then, “I’m... I know I complain a lot, but— look. I made light of it earlier, but you know my family history. I’m afforded a unique opportunity by my position to direct alms and tithes to where they’re needed most. I complain not because I dislike my vocation, but because I’m frustrated by the sluggish pace at which any changes must be made in order to improve the salus populi for the people of Rome. I’m exceptionally patient, but that doesn’t mean I have to like seeing these crusty old princes, fat off the teat of undeserved wealth, lording over the Church like it’s a damned fiefdom. You asked earlier what I would do if I were pope. I’d excommunicate half the cardinalate for simony, usury, conspiracy, and bare, mean greed.”

Reni smiled, pulled Uccello’s hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “You’re passionate,” he said, warmth in his tone. “I understand your feelings. The desire to do away with all the mistakes of one’s predecessors. To deny them, excise them even, like cutting out a disease in order to heal the body.” 

Uccello bit his lip, took a steadying breath through his nose. “Yes,” he said. “Unfortunately, these systems have been in place for centuries. It’ll take every underhanded trick I know to keep it all from simply falling back into the same old ruts.” 

Reni laughed, pressed Uccello’s had against his face, nuzzled against it. “I have faith in you,” he intoned. “It sounds like you think this new pope will just do whatever’s convenient. Perhaps you’ll persuade him to support your cause? Even if he doesn’t know that’s what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know, Reni. I don’t think he’d do anything he knew for certain would make him unpopular. Giving a majority of cardinals the boot would not make him well liked, I think. What a scandal it would be.” Uccello stretched out his little finger, stroked Reni’s cheekbone. “I don’t think he has the fortitude to deal with something like that. He’d run off back to France, and then where would we be? Another Avignon papacy?” Reni kissed his fingertips one by one, and Uccello smiled. “If only His Holiness had your strength of character, as well as your excellent taste in friends.” 

“Hmm, I don’t want anyone else tasting my friends,” Reni shot back, sucking the tip of Uccello’s index finger into his mouth and licking it teasingly. “At least, not this one.”

A nervous laugh tripped out of Uccello, unbidden, as he watched Reni’s tongue curl around his fingertip. It was an odd sensation, made him flush hot, embarrassed, and stole his words away. 

“You taste like candied fruits,” Reni commented, licking the clinging sugar from Uccello’s thumb and forefinger. 

Uccello swallowed. “Well, yes. We were eating succade,” he replied, feeling foolish. 

“Mm, I left all the candied citron peel for you, you know. I know you prefer bitter flavors.” 

Though he finally released Uccello’s hand, Reni couldn’t seem to stop touching— brushing the back of Uccello’s wrist when he went for a bit of the aforementioned candied citron peel, reaching out to tuck few strands of Uccello’s hair back behind his ear when the breeze picked up. Uccello couldn’t seem to find it in himself to mind it. 

“It’ll be dark soon,” Uccello observed. He regretted it as soon as he said it, knowing it would sound like he wanted their time together to end. “You’re not going to walk all the way home at this hour, are you?” he asked hastily. “I’ve been that way after dark, it’s barely lit.” 

Reni laughed. “Are you concerned for my safety? Think I’m not equipped to protect myself?” His hand landed on his sword, inert on the grass beside him. “I’ll remind you, /you’re/ the one who lives beside the Piazza Navona, not me,” Reni pointed out, gesturing in the direction of the dangerous neighborhood, where stabbings and brawls were common. “And,” Reni went on, “You’re the one dressed, ostensibly, like a prince... well, a prince of the church, anyway. If anyone was going to be attacked by thugs, it’d be you.”

Uccello snorted. “Yes yes, you’re very strong. That’s plain to see. Still, you might trip, in the dark. Strapping gentleman like you, you’d go down like a sack of rocks. Hit your head. Then where would we be?”

Steeling himself, Uccello bridged the gap between them, passing his palm over the crown of Reni’s skull, as if illustrating a vulnerability. His hand trailed down to cup Reni’s cheek before he realized, the heat and softness somehow thrilling. Reni leaned into it, turned his face into Uccello’s palm so he could feel his smile, even if it was growing too dark to see it clearly. 

“Can’t have that,” Reni murmured, muffled by Uccello’s hand, “if I crack my skull open, who will finish your commission? Who will secure your legacy in the church? Without that, you’ll never be pope, and then you won’t be able to excommunicate those bloated leeches once and for all. The whole system falls apart.”

“My point exactly,” Uccello teased back. “We need your skull intact, for the future of Rome.”

“Very well. I see it is my solemn duty, to avoid splitting my head like a melon. For the good of the people.” Reni’s hand closed over Uccello’s, and he pressed a kiss to the heart of Uccello’s palm. “And for you.”

“Nothing for it,” Uccello declared. “All we can do is take you back to my home, for safety’s sake.” He felt Reni chuckle against his skin. “Oh, but, as you’ve correctly indicated, I live adjacent to some fairly rough areas. What shall we do about that?” His tone was almost theatrical, and he had to fight not to laugh and ruin the running joke. 

“Indeed. Well then. I shall protect you to your doorstep, and then you’ll have to protect /me/ from there on. Will my skull be safe inside your home, Cardinal? I won’t suffer any accidents there?” Reni couldn’t contain his smile, and it was infectious. 

“We’ll put you in the master bed, where your head will be nestled among pillows, and shielded by a canopy. Surely it’ll be safe there.”

Reni kissed his palm again. “You’ll have to lie beside me though. As a guard,” he insisted. Uccello nodded, and tugged his hand free. 

“Agreed. Let’s pack up and get going then— the longer we tarry, the longer you’re out here, your precious skull exposed to unknown dangers.”

Reni laughed aloud then, and began tying up the cloth holding the remainder of their supper. As the last dying light winked out on the horizon, Reni slipped his hand into Uccello’s, to lead them home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
